


To catch a thief, it helps to be one

by cutebutpsyco



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - FBI, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, I didn't mean to turn it into a series but here I am, Undercover, White Collar - Freeform, asoiafrarepair, fake date, i don't know how to tag things, less art mumbo jumbo than you can image
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15047597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutebutpsyco/pseuds/cutebutpsyco
Summary: ASOIAF Rare Pair Week | Day OneFake Dating“C’mon, pretty girl,” Greyjoy says, and Myrcella has to suppress the need to roll her eyes before following him. “This will be fun.”





	To catch a thief, it helps to be one

**Author's Note:**

> This can be considered as a sort of part II of the Throbb WhiteCollar!AU I wrote in April. Again, what happens is inspired by the show, and I don't know if that's how FBI works (spoiler, probably not).  
> I swear I'll never even try to write Petyr again. 
> 
> The only thing that belongs to me is the image, title from White Collar. And yup, I know I'm probably the only person who ships them.

“I want you to repeat what's the plan,” Robb says, his back pushed against the inner wall of the FBI surveillance van. His eyes run on Myrcella, who is worried about that question. “I know you can do it, ‘Cella. It's just a check.”

“I’m Greyjoy’s plus one. I have to use the pen drive to hack the surveillance cameras so Theon can enter the vault before Bealish starts selling the paintings. He will force the anklet, and then I'll be able to intervene to arrest him. If I see the falsies, we could investigate on Baelish as well.”

“Only enter if Theon sees the paintings or if we can see them with the cameras,” Robb interrupts her. “If there’s nothing in the vault everything will be useless.”

Theon nods, a smirk on his lips and, maybe, just maybe, Myrcella isn’t sure at all that letting him open the anklet is the best thing in the world. But that’s the only way they have to frame Baelish, and so this will have to work.  
“One last thing: any chance the man could recognize you?” Robb asks while they are yet walking down the van to reach the car that will lead them to the mansion. 

“The last time he saw me, I was a child. Robb, I can handle it. It’s not my first-time undercover.”

“C’mon, pretty girl,” Greyjoy says, and Myrcella has to suppress the need to roll her eyes before following him. “This will be fun.”

\--

They reach Baelish’s house in some ten minutes. It’s a mansion in the Hamptons, huge, in stark white marble, which reminds more of an ancient temple than an estate. A lot of Italians cars are queueing in the wide driveway, and despite the two of them being perfectly suited up, she’s sure they won’t look half as elegant as the majority of the people who are entering the house. Not that she’s intimidated by this. She's used to this kind of party or, better, she was, when she still was in speaking terms with her family. Family she hopes isn’t there tonight. 

She taps the comm in her ear and when the static is gone, speaks: “We are here, can you help me with the metal detector?”

She hears the sound of typing on a keyboard from the other side and a moment later agent Umber’s voice: “Done, you should have a minute or so before they realize it’s off.” 

Myrcella nods, taking Theon’s hand and smiling smitten at him while he handles his invitation to a man with a name tag on his tuxedo. It took Myrcella just a moment to realize why the man’s face his somehow familiar to her and reading his surname is enough to make her fret inside the house hall. 

“Is everything fine?” Theon asks her. Greyjoy is still wearing his shit-eating grin and looks kind of amused by the architecture of the place. Myrcella looks at him. She doesn’t trust the man, per se, but she also knows that if her career in the White Collar and in the FBI can depend on this mission, for the man is his freedom that depends on it. She turns the comm off, walking toward the buffet table. 

“The man at the entrance, What’s-his-name Kettleblack, he used to work for my mother. Baelish can’t recognize me…”

“But if your mother is there, she will,” Theon finishes the sentence for her. “Ok, you know what? We’ll ask Baelish.”

The glance Myrcella throws at Theon could kill, though the painter slash thief just smirks back at her. A moment later, he handles her a champagne flute and approaches the party host who is entering the hall. Myrcella knows she should stop Greyjoy, but he's dangerously close to the man, and if she tries to stop him she would only make Baelish suspicious. 

Myrcella has few memories of Petyr Baelish. She just knows she never liked the man, and that the feeling is supported by the fact that he is not just a creep but one of the dangerous kind. Anyway, she's surprised when she realizes that, despite all the years passed since their last meeting, the man hasn’t changed a bit but for his hair, which turned more salt than pepper. 

A moment later, after having followed Theon, who’s wearing his most charming smile, she finds herself facing the man. 

“Petyr,” Theon says, and he sounds so casual that she would guess they are close friends. While she knows better, and she decided to trust him when Greyjoy told her he hates the man because of his method, whatever that means, by the way. “Long time has passed.”

“For what I’ve heard, feds got you,” Baelish says, and he’s not even impressed. “I'm surprised to see you there, even more with someone who isn’t that cute girl of you.”

A strange expression crosses Theon’s face, but it doesn’t stay enough for Myrcella to understands what it is. 

“Whoever told you that, is a liar, even if a useful one. I kept a low profile, and let the voice spread,” He says, winking at the man as if they are sharing a deep secret or something like that. Myrcella doesn’t care: from where they are, she can see almost everyone in the room, and she takes her time to try to understand if Cersei or anyone from her family is around. “If people think you’re cage up, nobody bothers you.”

“We’ve always had a very different way to think, I can give you that.”

“Hosting parties had never been my style. I’ve always preferred attend at them,” Theon says, before turning to look at Myrcella, and she smiles, trying to rip away the preoccupation of being discovered from her face. “And, of course, I haven’t introduced you my girlfriend yet, Joanna Hills.”

They decided on that name for Myrcella. Joanna, after her grandmother, and Hills, mostly because it's a surname on which nobody will investigate further. Though, being called with her grandmother’s name fills her heart with a warm and pleasant feeling, especially now that she has any connection with her family any longer. 

Myrcella and Baelish shake their hands briefly, and then Petyr throws an ambiguous smile at her. For a moment, in that greenish eyes, Myrcella fears to face the truth. Baelish had always been very good at reading people. It lasts just for a second, then the man smiles and goes back speaking briefly with Theon, confirming him either Cersei or any of the Lannisters is around. After some moments, the music starts to play, and the man walks past them, whispering something in one of his men’s ears. A cold shiver runs up Myrcella’s back, but she tries to suppress it.

“Let’s dance,” Theon suggests. They have to wait for Robb’s signal to hack the cameras and, for now, they are supposed to be dating, aren’t they? “We can’t just stand by the walls all night long.” 

Which is a perfectly valid point, and considering that she won't have to face any relative or hers any time soon, Myrcella can relax a bit. 

\-- 

They haven’t danced for too long when Robb’s voice is back in Myrcella’s ear. “If you can, we’d need eyes inside,” He says.

“Copy that,” Myrcella whispers, the movement of her lips hide behind a flute. She has memorized the building blueprints, and it doesn’t take to long for her to reach the first-floor bathroom. From there, she can walk in Baelish’s bedchamber (a place in which she wouldn’t enter even at her life cost, truth to be told) and into the security room, connected to said bedchamber by a private hallway. 

She just hopes Theon can keep the man busy if he moves toward the stairs. She tries not to think about it and closes her hand around the gun. Then she turns the corner that leads to the security room. The room is empty, though there's a still hot cup of coffee on one of the desks. Which means that Myrcella doesn’t have time to examine what’s around her or what’s on the screens. 

She has zero experience with technology, so she hopes she’s doing right when she pushes the pen drive in what looks like the central computer in the room. The screens flash for an eye beat, and then the images come back. 

Myrcella doesn’t wait for a moment and retires back in the main hallway from the principal door of the room.  
“And that’s wasn’t the bathroom.” She says, loud, walking out of it and sounding as naive as she can. Not that there’s someone in the hallway to hear it. 

“And we’ve got videos,” Stark’s voice comes from the comm, followed by others keyboard sounds and then Alys’s voice: “Fuck, boss, more than a vault it looks like a museum storage!”

“Great,” Myrcella doesn’t need to be on the van to understand that Robb is ironic. “Theon’s up.” 

Myrcella goes back to the hall, and it doesn’t take too long for her to see Theon among the crowd. He’s chatting with a blonde girl, but the moment he sees her he steps back, waiting for Myrcella to nod, and excusing himself. She knows she should play the jealous girlfriend's role but she has never been good at it in the first place so decides to let it go. 

She doesn’t have to wait long, though, until she hears another sound in her ear, which isn’t the one she was supposed to. It isn’t the alarm noise of the electronic anklet going off, but the static one of her comm. 

“Someone Is in the vault hallway,” Jon says. And Myrcella knows Theon doesn’t have a comm. She only can provide any support she can think about and hope it's enough. Her heart is pounding in her ears while she takes the stairs that lead downstairs. She won’t ever be grateful enough for buildings blueprints. 

“Where’s Theon?” She asks.

“Outside the vault door, he needs time to find the opening code.” 

Myrcella nods, even if she’s aware from the van they can’t see her, and then she rushes down the stairs. Running with heels isn’t the easiest thing in the world, especially considering that she’s wearing a hell-long dress, but, apparently, the stairs she took are closer to the vault door than the ones Baelish men’s went for because she hears footsteps approaching once that she reaches the vault door. 

Theon almost jumps when she shakes him. He’s wearing headphones and looking at his mobile screen on which a series of numbers are appearing. 

“Kiss me,” Myrcella says, before receiving a very puzzling glance from the man. “Someone is coming, kiss me. They’ll think we’re looking for somewhere quiet.” 

And point is, Myrcella has imagined a stage kiss, not Theon’s tongue pushing her lips open while he drags her as far as possible from the door he was working at before and stopping only when they reach a dark corner. When they part, they both are short of breath but whoever entered the room hasn’t seen them. 

“For the chronicle,” Myrcella whispers. “Next time you’re someone’s undercover boyfriend, and that person asks you to kiss them, it’s a stage kiss, no need to make out.” She pushes her back again against the wall.

“Well, nobody told you to kiss me back.” He answers, winking at her and maybe, just maybe, she has kissed him back but it was all muscle memory, yup. Which is the reason why she silences him with a hand when voices come back from the hallway. 

Theon doesn’t question further and forces the anklet opening as Robb had told him to do, or, well, Myrcella thinks he has told him how to. In less than a second, her mobile is beeping, and the same awful noise comes from her comm.  
Theon waits for a couple of seconds before walking in the hallway. The yells of one of the men in there arrive at Myrcella ears almost immediately. 

“FBI!” She tells, turning the corner, and facing both Theon and Baelish's men. She recognizes the movement of someone who's trying to reach their guns, but they can't move because they are holding the perfect copy of a Neoclassical painting.  
It doesn't take too long for Robb’s voice repeating the very same word upstairs.


End file.
